Three O'Clock Noir
by Captain Blue
Summary: AU: A man has been murdered. The police refuse to look into it because the man was a member of a gang. Only one man is willing to take the case, on the Greatest Casino Strip in the world. Rated for language and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: Hmm, so... I bet you guys are all surprised to see this. I know I still have "Raftel Rumble!" up, and "Luffy Overboard"... but truth be told, they're not my best works. "Luffy Overboard" is postponed indefinitely (but I'll keep it up for the readers' sake), and I'm thinking about re-writing/updating "Raftel Rumble!" once I've finished this story. Hopefully, this right here will be my first complete multi-chaptered One Piece fic. For now, please enjoy, and let me know what you guys think. I'm always looking to improve my story-telling skills, so that my readers can actually think I'm good writer. =P  
>- Captain Blue<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>  
><em>The Death They Won't Investigate! Enter Detective Sanji<em>

The first thing I notice is the newspaper lying on my desk, front page facing the ceiling. Intrigued, I move over and sit down in my rusting swivel chair, placing my bag at my feet. With a small sigh, I pick up the paper and read the headline:

_**Whitebeard Gang Commander "Fire Fist" Ace Found Dead! **__  
>The body of Portgas D. Ace was discovered late last night, lying in an alleyway between Rain Diners and the Sakura Casino. Known as the "Fire Fist" for his unusual ability to set his hands on fire, Portgas was instated as the Commander of the Second Division of the infamous Whitebeard Gang, who have controlled most of the Grand Line Casino Strip for the past several decades. The police have issued no official statement regarding Portgas's death, but it can be expected that "Whitebeard" will be willing to issue retribution.<em>

The article goes on to describe the details of the Whitebeard Gang. I toss the paper back on my desk, pulling out of a package of King Ground cigarettes from my breast pocket. I pull a fresh one out, stick it between my lips, and light it up. The first inhale is like a breath of fresh air, heating up my lungs. Can you believe my shitty doctor wants me to quit?

Oh, I should probably introduce myself. My name's Sanji. I'm a private detective, specializing in gang-related stuff. Y'see, this whole section of hotels, casinos, and various other establishments is called the "Grand Line". Why they call it that is beyond me, but anyways, this whole place used to be ruled by a powerful gangster by the name of Roger. When the cops got him, he had a public execution, but not before he challenged everyone to find this huge stack of cash he had hidden somewhere. Now a bunch of gangs have risen up, trying to find it. I wouldn't mind getting a chunk of it myself, but there are ladies out there I have to protect.

All of a sudden, the door to my office bursts open, and in comes running this lanky kid with a ratty straw hat and bright red vest. He's all panicky and sweating bullets as he charges up to my desk. I'm used to this, so I just recline in my chair, putting my feet up on my desk, hands behind my head. "What's up, Luffy?" I ask, keeping my precious cig clenched between my teeth.

Luffy notices the paper on my desk and grabs it, holding it up to my face. "Ace is dead!" He gasps. "They killed my brother!"

My spiral eyebrow rises up. "Eh? I didn't know you had a brother," This kid goes on and on about finding Roger's treasure and becoming the next Gangster King, but he never bothers telling me about his family.

"I do! Well… I did." He frowns as he looks at the paper. I exhale some smoke, tapping some ash into my ashtray, waiting for him to continue. "I can't believe it… who did this?" He shouts, shoving the paper back into my face.

I roll my eyes. Eye, actually. I keep my right eye covered with my blond bangs for reasons I'll never divulge or else I'll have to gut you whole. Anyways, I sit up straight, looking at the young gang leader. "Lemme guess. You wanna hire me to find out who did this?"

Luffy nods furiously, his eyes blazing with thoughts of righteous fury. "Yes! Sanji, you gotta find out who did this! The cops aren't gonna investi… invegi…"

"Investigate," I prompt. This guy's a great fighter but I swear he's got rubber for brains.

"Yeah, that. The cops aren't gonna do that because he was in a gang."

I scoff. Those shitty cops refuse to solve half of the homicide cases since they all involve gang members as the victims. I know for a fact that they'd probably give the killers medals… if they weren't gang members themselves. I fold my arms, looking up at Luffy, who only blinks in response.

"Oh," he says finally. "Don't worry; I'll get Nami to pay you." He tries to grin, but it putters about half-way. I guess it's hard to be a cheerful idiot when your brother's died. Not that I would know, I'm an only child.

While my mind dances happily at the thought of the spunky orange-haired woman who works in Luffy's gang, my face is all business. At least, I would hope so: some people have told me that my eye turns into a heart whenever I spot a pretty lady. "It's no problem, Luffy." I tell him. "You won't need to pay me until I solve this case." Never mind that I'm months behind on my rent and my smoking habit drains my wallet like nobody's business.

"Great," Luffy replies, staring back at the paper. He turns around to walk out, but I clear my throat and hold out my hand. He turns back around and hands the paper back. "Sorry. Look, I should find Old Man Whitebeard, and see what'll happen next." He gives a small, half-hearted wave and walks out, closing the door behind him.

I exhale some smoke, watching it twist and turn before dissipating. I scratch the small goatee growing on my chin, wondering what my first step is going to be. Some time (and several cigs) later, I figure some intelligence wouldn't hurt. I stand up and dust of my suit: appearance is everything after all, especially when you're trying to score a beautiful lady. As I grab my coat, I check my watch: it's a little after six in the evening. Good, Shakky's still open.

I lock my office door behind me and climb down a few flights of stairs, tip-toeing past the landlord's apartment. Can't let him see me when I don't have any cash yet. Again, I wouldn't mind having some of Roger's haul. I try to focus on my new assignment as I light up another cig, stepping out into the evening scenery.

There are lights everywhere: lights to attract attention, lights to advertise, lights to illuminate the sidewalks. And for some reason City Hall still decides to add lights for Christmas. That's just overkill, in my opinion. Anyways, I've learned to shut out most of the distractions: I'm still drawn in towards the burlesque shows and such. But for now, I make my way towards where I need to be: Shakky's "Rip Off" Bar. It's run by an ex-gangster, who quit about four decades ago but looks like she's only 30 or so. The world is a mysterious place.

I reach the right door, knock a few times, and wait. A small slot opens up and a pair of eyes glare at me through it.

"Password," the eyes demand, narrowing tightly.

"I don't need no shitty password." I say. "Do we really have to play this shitty game every shitty time?"

"Password." The eyes snap dangerously, narrowing even more at me.

"Fine, fine. 'Knowledge is power.'" I reply, and the slot closes up. I hear the clicks of numerous locks, and the door swings open inside. "Thanks," I say, walking by the doorman keeping to the shadows. "Shitty doorman," I add under my breath as I duck through the curtains into Shakky's bar.

I take a deep inhale: booze, tobacco smoke, greasy food, and perfume. I sigh contently, walking up to the bar. _I really need to come to this place more often, _I think as I slide onto a barstool closest to a broken jukebox and glance around. _And there sure are a lot of beautiful mademoiselles here, too~ _

My thoughts are broken when I feel someone slam a bottle of bourbon onto my hand. I wince and turn to the bar, grinning sheepishly. "Heh heh… hey there, Miss Shakky. I guess you're still mad at me, huh?" Oh, yeah. Now I remember why I don't come here more…

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**  
><em>Knowledge is Power! Shakky's Behind-the-Scenes Info<em>

"You sure do have some nerve coming back here, Sanji," Shakky says, glaring at me through the haze of her own cigarette, driving the bottle of bourbon harder into my fingers. I smile, trying not to wince: I knew Shakky could still drive off freeloaders, but this is just ridiculous.

"Ah, but Miss Shakky," I say, giving her my most charming smile yet, biting down on my cig to help ease the pain. "How could I not come back here after all you've done for me?" I really hope that worked, and I can see the tightness around her eyes loosen up just a bit. It's not much, but it's something, at least.

"Tell me what you want first, and then I'll decide."

"I just need some information," I reply. "I got a new case, but I need some background information first. Think you can help me, please, Miss Shakky?"

There's a pause and it feels like my fingers are going to snap in two. Why did this lovely lady retire from being a gangster? Before I can take that thought further, Shakky lifts the bourbon off of my hand and sets it down on the bar, shaking her head. "You're too charming sometimes, Sanji." She tells me, reaching under the bar and producing a glass.

"I like to think so," I tell her with another charming smile, watching as she pours the bourbon into the glass. I reach for it but she snatches it up first and takes a sip, cigarette in her free hand. I look up at her, frowning, but she ignores me.

"So, what's your new case, then?" She asks, eying me as she takes another measured sip. I can feel my throat drying up but I swallow indiscreetly and clear my throat.

"Ah, well, one of Whitebeard's men was killed," I explain in a hushed voice: you can never be too careful when relaying an ongoing investigation. "And Luffy asked me to look into it, because the guy was his brother…"

"Wait, 'Fire Fist' Ace is Monkey-chin's brother?" Shakky asks, setting the glass of bourbon down, shock and surprise flashing through her face.

"I know, it surprised me, too." I pull my cig out and exhale, the smoke drifting through the air as it melds with the other whips of smoke within the bar. "But Luffy's a friend of mine, so I guess I have to do this sorta thing anyways."

Shakky says nothing, taking a deep drag off her cigarette, staring off into some vacant corner of the ceiling. After a moment or two she turns back to me. "Okay, so what sort of info can I provide?"

"Something that will give me a reason why someone wanted Ace dead." Motive is usually a good place to start, especially when you don't have free access to the police reports. Not that there'd be one in this case, but still.

"Fire Fist is one of Whitebeard's men," Shakky says. "Once Roger got caught, Whitebeard became the new figurehead to take down. Chances are someone wanted to try and knock Whitebeard off of his high horse."

"Makes sense," I say, nodding. "But Ace was a pretty high-ranking commander. It's pretty risky to go after someone that powerful, isn't it? Why wouldn't they go after a lower-ranked commander, or just a random thug?"

"That, I don't know for sure." Shakky admits with a shrug. "Maybe they came across Fire Fist by chance and where able to take him out somehow. Maybe Ace just upped and died on his own."

"I doubt it." I cut it. "He's Luffy brother, and Luffy is pretty tough. Ace had to have been a lot tougher, and he was fairly young. Luffy's only nineteen, himself."

"You have a point," says Shakky, taking another drag. "But the point still stands that we don't know why Fire Fist was the one to die."

"Do you know anything about Ace?" I ask, leaning against the bar. "Luffy's never told me about him, and I haven't met him myself."

"I actually don't know a lot, unfortunately." Shakky leans against the bar as well so that our faces are only a few inches apart. Despite all the cigarette smell I can still detect her perfume. "I only know that Fire Fist worked for Whitebeard. I did hear that he was offered to become of the Seven Informants a few years after he first starting making headlines."

"Whoa, really?" I ask, eyes widening. The Seven Informants are seven powerful gangsters who allied themselves with the big-wigs running the city, named as such for whispers that they sell out fellow gangsters for less competition. "That's surprising for someone so young."

"He's been pretty well-known, that Fire Fist." says Shakky. "But there have been a lot of gangsters popping up in the news since Roger was captured, so being well-known is pretty subjective. Fire Fist never really went against City Hall, though. He mostly only did his own thing up until he fell under Whitebeard's command."

I rub my chin in thought, supporting myself against the bar with one elbow. "So maybe you were right… maybe this is all to get back at Whitebeard…" I stand up from the bar, smiling at Shakky. "Thanks a lot, Miss Shakky. Now I have a place to start."

Shakky smiles and finishes her bourbon. "Glad I could help, Sanji." She says, rinsing out the glass and wiping it dry with a rag from under the counter. "But be a little more careful when you come back." She adds with a sudden edge in her voice.

"Of course," I say with a somewhat nervous smile, turning towards the door as it snaps open. About three men in uniform come filing in, eyes hidden under the brim of their hats. The entire bar goes silent as they walk in.

"Damn, it's the cops." I hear one patron drunkenly whisper loud enough for everyone to hear. "What do they want?"

I'm wondering the same thing myself, but I try to remain calm. My hands slip into my pants pockets and I give the cops a casual – if slightly bemused – expression. No need to act hostile unless they come after a lady… or me.

"Can I help you?" Shakky says from behind me, placing the clean glass back onto the counter top.

"We're looking for a guy named Sanji," the cops say.

Well, shit.

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**  
><em>"The Deepening of the Mystery! Sanji Seeks Out Whitebeard"<em>

I take a deep inhale of my cig, letting the heavy, gritty smoke fill my lungs. I tap some ashes onto the floor — it's already covered with so much dust that it's not that big of a deal – and exhale slowly, keeping my eye(s) plastered on the three cops that just strolled in. They asked for me but given the fact that they haven't asked me directly means that they don't know what I look like.

"There's no one named Sanji here," I hear Shakky say firmly from behind the bar. "Now, are you boys gonna order something?"

The cops shift very slightly. I can see beads of sweat forming on their faces: they're probably rookies sent from a higher-up to come after me. Heh, either way, it's not like it would stop me.

One of the cops clears his throat. "A-alright then. Thank you for your time." They turn and start to walk out when some idiot drunk raises his hand and points at me, speaking very slurred.

"Heeeey, wait a minute there, copssssh… thishh guy's Sanji 'ere, righhht?" Shitty drunk. I sigh as the cops whip back around and stare right at me. Smiling, I grant them a mock grin and spread my arms wide.

"Alright, ya got me. But don't think I'm going quietly." I add as the cops advance towards me. One of them reaches for the holster on his belt, fingers touching the butt of his pistol. I guess they're not just looking to arrest me. There's still a few feet between me and them, so I quickly step forward.

"_Slice Shoot!" _My left leg snaps up and connects with the cop's hand. The gun flies out of the holster, clattering on the floor behind him. The other cops now have their guns in their hands and have them pointed right at me. Quickly, fluidly, I lean forward onto my hands and kick their guns out, too. I flip back onto my feet and glance at them. They're scared now. They run out of the bar, snatching up their pistols as they go.

"Hmph," I sigh a bit. That wasn't much of a challenge. I turn back to Shakky, holding up a hand in apology. "Sorry for the commotion, Miss Shakky."

"Just be careful, Sanji." She replies. "The cops will come back after you."

"I know," I say, walking out of the bar into the muggy night air, heating by the various neon signs and streetlamps stretching up and down the street. "Okay, now to find Whitebeard…"

* * *

><p>About an hour later, I come to a building with a large, whale-shaped sign plastered above the doorway: The Moby Dick. I think this is the place: Luffy told me about it when I asked about the large x-shaped scar on his chest. How it relates to Whitebeard, I don't exactly recall, but that's not the point.<p>

I raise a fist to knock on the door when it swings open. I stumble a bit but quickly regain composure to greet the man in front of me: in a casual dress of sandals, slacks, and an open shirt is Marco. He smiles politely and I can't help but notice his head is shaped very much like a pineapple. "Sanji, right?" He says, extending a hand.

"Hey, Marco." I greet, shaking his hand. "I guess Luffy got in touch with you, huh?" Somehow Luffy and Whitebeard hit it off, so Luffy used that to get me in good standings.

"Yeah, he did," Marco stands aside to let me in and closes the door. "This hit us hard: Pops loves all of us and hearing that Ace got killed sent his temper spiking." He walks by me and starts walking up a stairway.

"I'm sorry to hear about it, too." I say, following him. "But I'm going to get to the bottom of this."

Marco turns and gives a half-hearted smile. "You'll have to convince Pops himself. But you're a friend of Luffy's, so that gives you an edge."

"I should hope so," I say quietly, mostly to myself. Marco leads me up to a large door and holds it open for me. I thank him and step inside. It's a very nicely furbished room: plush carpet along the floor, a solid oak bar against the far left wall, hundreds of people milling about. In the back center, in a massive chair, sits Whitebeard himself.

Whitebeard is huge, no doubt about it: he's easily three or four times larger than an average man and incredibly muscular. He has giant scars on his upper chest and his perfectly –curved crescent moon mustache settles under his nose. Wearing a custom-tailored suit, his eyes fall down upon me.

"So," He says, his deep gravelly voice shaking the windows. "You're Sanji, eh?"

"Yes sir." I say, uncharacteristically nervous. Marco shakes his hand and pats my shoulder before walking over to stand next to his boss. "It's nice to meet you,"

Whitebeard gulps down a gallon-full from the barrel of scotch clutched in his right hand. "Gu ra ra… polite little snot, aren't ya?"

My eyebrow twitches but I say nothing: I don't take people insulting me lightly but this is _Whitebeard_: he fought with Roger, the strongest gangster ever. It'd be a terrible thing to get on his bad side when I'm working on his "son's" death.

"That Luffy kid told me he hired you to solve Ace's death," Whitebeard says, setting the barrel down on the floor with a slight thud.

"That's right," I say with a nod, taking a drag off of my sixth cig of the evening. "He said Ace was his brother."

"We never knew Ace had a brother until Luffy came to us," says Marco, leaning casually against the side of Whitebeard's chair. "But that's not why you're here, is it?"

"I came here to find out if there's any reason why Ace was killed." I explain. "I speculate that someone wanted to get at you, Whitebeard—"

"If they wanted to get back at me, they'd come to me in person!" interrupts Whitebeard, his eyes narrowing. "This was more about Ace!"

"You must know something that I don't," I reply. "Why Ace?" As soon as I ask that question, the entire place goes deathly silent. Everyone in the room is staring at me and Whitebeard. The massive gangster glowers at me and I meet his gaze, refusing to back away.

"Pops," says Marco quietly, a single drop of sweat sliding down his face. "What's going on?"

Whitebeard says nothing, instead opting to take another few chugs from his barrel. "Ace approached me a while after he became the Second Division Commander… he said he had something important to tell me… it was nothing, anyways…"

There's a long, drawn-out pause as Whitebeard wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, oblivious to the tension. He settles into his chair and looks down at me again. Every muscle in my body freezes up, my brain so intently focused on what's coming.

"I suspect that the reason why Ace was murdered," says Whitebeard gruffly. "Was because Ace… is Gold Roger's son."

_To be continued..._


End file.
